


Conflict Resolution

by telperion_15



Series: Nick/Connor [2]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Apologies, Consent Issues, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Connor attempt to deal with the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for episodes 1.04 and 2.07.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was the first time he had seen the other man in a week.

The shrill ringing of his mobile phone jerked Connor out his reverie. He eyed it apprehensively for a few seconds, and then finally picked it up, holding it gingerly as though he were afraid it would bite him.

However, as he glanced at the display, he relaxed. It was Duncan. Not the name he had been dreading.

“Hi, mate…oh, things are fine. Bit boring, really. How are you?…that’s great!…DVD night? Count me in…you’re right, it has been too long… _Blake’s Seven_ or _Battlestar Galactica_?…okay, I’ll bring both…yep, see you later…looking forward to it…”

As he hung up Connor discovered that he really _was_ looking forward to it. He didn’t see Duncan as much as he used too, what with the anomalies taking up so much of his time. And now that Tom was…gone, it always felt like there was a space that needed to be filled. It had made them both uncomfortable for a long time.

But suddenly he was determined not to let his friend slip away. Too much had been lost lately by too many people. This was one thing he could save.

Abruptly, the phone rang again, making Connor jump and fumble it slightly. Regaining a firm grip on it, he checked the display again nervously. Abby this time. He pressed the answer button.

“ _Connor, there’s a new anomaly. Hampstead Heath. Cutter and Jenny are already on their way. I’ll pick you up in about twenty minutes_.”

“Okay. See you in a few.”

Well, he’d known he couldn’t avoid it forever.

*   *   *   *   *

This was definitely one of the odder anomalies they’d encountered, Connor decided three hours later. It had yet to provide them with any creatures to study, or shoot, or run away from, probably because it was behaving so erratically.

Since Connor and Abby had arrived at Hampstead Heath, the anomaly had flickered in and out of existence precisely twenty-six times. And apparently it had been doing this ever since it had first appeared, putting Jenny on the receiving end of several very irate phone calls from Lester, who claimed to be getting to world’s worst headache due to the fact the detector went off every time the anomaly shimmered back to life. The most recent call had seen Lester demanding to know how to switch ‘that damned machine’ off. Jenny had hurriedly shoved the phone at Connor, who had nervously outlined the shut down procedure for the detector. He had also tried to tell Lester that actually it wouldn’t be the best idea to turn off the device, but the man had hung up before he’d got more than halfway through the sentence.

The anomaly’s behaviour had also meant that Connor was fully occupied in taking readings from it every time it appeared, and using that data to try and predict its next visit. Abby was stood near him, checking and re-checking their complement of dart guns, just in case. She seemed to have naturally assumed responsibility for the non-lethal arsenal, and no one had questioned the change.

Cutter and Jenny were off to one side, having a quiet but vehement argument about the need for back-up. Cutter was maintaining that a military presence would only draw more attention to the anomaly, which at the moment was half-hidden in a stand of trees, while Jenny was of the opinion that, located as it was in an area popular with picnickers, dog-walkers, and the like, the anomaly posed enough of a risk that armed protection was necessary. At that point Cutter had pointed out that firstly, the anomaly so far hadn’t been open long enough to let any creatures come through, and secondly, on this grey and dreary September afternoon there were hardly any picnickers or dog-walkers around to be in danger.

Privately, Connor agreed with the professor. In this case military support would be overkill. But he wasn’t planning on voicing that opinion. In fact, he was very pointedly _not_ involving himself in the debate, instead giving all his attention to the anomaly in front of him and the laptop on his knee.

Not that either of those things was in any way stifling his awareness of Cutter hovering only a few yards away. No matter how much Connor concentrated on his data and calculations, he could still feel Cutter standing there, and he knew without even having to turn his head that Cutter was watching him at any given opportunity.

This was the first time he had seen the other man in a week. The first time since…that night.

He’d stayed – like he said he would. He’d stayed until morning, not sleeping on the sofa as he was sure Cutter wasn’t sleeping in his bed upstairs. And then, in grey light of dawn, he’d crept out of the house without saying goodbye. And he hadn’t seen Cutter since.

The anomalies – or lack thereof – had been surprisingly helpful to his policy of avoidance. He hadn’t had to go anywhere near the ARC for the last seven days, able to shut himself away and be alone with his thoughts. And when Abby had asked him why he wasn’t going out he had claimed that he wanted to look after Rex – the little reptile was still recovering from his own ordeal as a result of Leek and Helen’s mad schemes.

“Connor.”

Abby’s voice made him raise his eyes from his computer screen. “What?”

“The anomaly.”

Connor looked where she was looking. “It’s not there.” What was her point?

“It hasn’t been there for the last ten minutes. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Of course I have,” said Connor, although he could tell Abby wasn’t buying it. He swivelled round on his seat. “Jenny!”

Jenny paused in the act of raising her phone to her ear – apparently in the process of trampling over Cutter’s opinion and calling for back-up anyway. “Yes, what is it, Connor?”

“I think the anomaly might have gone.” He could sense Abby rolling her eyes behind his back.

“Are you sure?”

“Not yet. We’ll need to wait a bit longer to verify it. But this is the longest it’s been closed for any one period.”

Half-an-hour later, when the anomaly still hadn’t reappeared, Connor felt it was safe enough to conclude that it really was gone for good. Jenny looked relieved, and immediately called Lester to update him on the situation. Abby started packing away the dart guns, and Connor set about saving his data and shutting down his laptop.

As he flipped the top of the computer down, a soft sound alerted him to someone standing behind him. Suddenly the contents of his laptop bag became intensely interesting.

“Connor, have you got a moment?” Cutter’s voice was admirably steady, but Connor thought he could still detect a faint tremor underlying the words.

To all appearances Cutter’s working persona had remained firmly in place, despite previous events. Connor only had this afternoon’s surreptitious observations to go on, but the man still appeared to be holding it together well enough to do his job.

But what he was like when he left the ARC Connor had no idea. He’d clearly kept his promise, and not taken a leaf out of Helen’s book and attempted to change the timeline – the continued absence of Stephen was testament to that. But was he still grieving in private? Was he still quietly crumbling away under the surface, with no one to witness it or to help him through it? Right now it was impossible to tell, and Connor suddenly felt very guilty about not being there when Cutter needed him most.

“Connor?”

Standing abruptly, Connor turned to face Cutter, although he kept his eyes firmly fixed on a point somewhere over the other man’s right shoulder.

“I’m sorry, professor, but I have plans.” Hitching up his sleeve he made a show of checking his watch. “In fact, if I don’t hurry, I’m going to be late.”

Cutter glanced over to where Abby was packing the gun case away in the truck. “Abby doesn’t seem in any particular hurry,” he commented. “I’m sure she won’t mind if you delay slightly.”

“My plans aren’t with Abby,” Connor said quickly.

“Oh. Is it…Caroline?”

A meaner person would have taken pleasure in punishing Cutter by answering that question in the affirmative. But Connor wasn’t one of those people.

“No, I’m going round to Duncan’s. We’re having a DVD night.”

“Oh,” said Cutter again. He looked a bit lost, but then visibly pulled himself together. “Well, have a good time. Er…perhaps we could have a chat tomorrow?”

Connor looked at his watch again. “Look, I really need to get going.”

“Connor, please, we need to…”

“Sorry, professor, I have to go.”

Connor forced himself not to look back as he scuttled off towards the truck. He knew Cutter was right. He knew they needed to sort things out. But he was scared. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know how things were going to turn out. So he was taking the coward's way out. At least for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby gives Connor some good advice.

Connor tiptoed up the stairs with exaggerated quietness. He’d lost track of the time some while ago, although he knew it was late.  _Really_ late. Like ‘Abby would kill him if he woke her up’ late.

He made it to the top of the stairs without incident, and then paused. The world was tilting slightly on its axis around him, thanks to the consumption of one or two more cans of lager round at Duncan’s than was perhaps _strictly_ advisable. Therefore, at this moment he wasn’t exactly sure which direction would take him towards his bed, and he felt it might be a good idea to wait for a few seconds until the geography of the flat sorted itself into an arrangement he recognised.

He knew the evening hadn’t gone quite as he had wanted it to. He’d vowed to be a better friend to Duncan, and he’d hoped that the pair of them could just have some fun – consume a few beers and perhaps dissect the relative merits of the old _Battlestar_ _Galactica_ versus the new version.

And they had done those things – hence Connor’s now somewhat wonky world view. But at the same time he knew he hadn’t been totally ‘with it’ all evening. And that wasn’t just because of the alcohol. He just couldn’t seem to stop thoughts of Cutter and what was happening between them (or should that be _not_ happening?) from playing on his mind.

Duncan, who ever since Tom had had an inkling of the kinds of things Connor was involved in (although he, like the rest of them, had been made to sign the Official Secrets Act), had asked him if something bad was going on at work. Was something else on the loose?

Connor had quickly assured him that it was nothing like that, and had then steered the conversation back to spaceships and alien cyborgs, opening another can as he did so. There was no way he would be discussing what was going on with Duncan. He was a mate, but he wouldn’t understand.

Several DVDs later, Connor had suddenly realised what the time was. Aided, it had to be said, by the gentle snore Duncan had emitted from his position asleep on the sofa. He had called a cab to take him home, leaving a note of thanks for the fun evening for Duncan, and now here he was, lurking in the darkness, waiting for the floor to level itself out again.

A chirping sound issued from one of the tanks standing in the middle of the room, and Connor noticed a pair of green eyes watching him, illuminated by the light of the streetlamps coming in through the windows.

“Rex!” he exclaimed, before looking round guiltily and lowering his voice to a whisper. “Rex. How are you doing, mate?”

Rex chirped again and stretched his wings slightly. Abby had removed the bandages from his injury a few days ago, and in this light Connor couldn’t make out the scar that marred his scales. But the little lizard seemed to have bounced back remarkably well, much to Abby’s and his relief.

As Connor peered at Rex through the glass of the tank (and he could have sworn that Rex was giving him a disapproving look in return), there was a click, and the flat was suddenly flooded with light, showing Connor a half-dressed and very grumpy-looking Abby. Obviously he hadn’t been as quiet as he’d thought he had.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

Abby just gave him The Look, and he smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he said again.

“Do you know what time it is?” Abby said exasperatedly. “2:45 in the morning!” she continued, before Connor could answer. “As if we hadn’t had enough going on in our lives lately, now I can’t even get a decent night’s sleep!”

“Look, I really am sorry,” repeated Connor. “Go back to bed. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning to make up for it.”

“It’s too late now – I’m already awake,” responded Abby darkly. Wrapping her dressing gown around herself more firmly, she shuffled over to stand next to Connor, inspecting Rex, who now appeared to be wearing an ‘I told you so’ expression.

“He’s looking much better,” Connor offered.

“Yes, he is,” said Abby, her face softening as she looked down at Rex. “Thank god.” Then she switched her attention to Connor again. “Well, are you going to make some coffee or not? I’m going to need some now I’m up, and heaven knows you look like you could do with something to sober you up.”

“Yep, okay, coffee. Coming right up.” Actually, Connor was suddenly feeling a lot more alert – something about being confronted by angry flatmates capable of pummelling you into oblivion seemed to have a sobering effect. But he made the coffee anyway, drifting off a little as he waited for the kettle to boil.

“Connor?”

He jumped slightly, and turned to see Abby watching him from the sofa. “Sorry. Coffee won’t be a sec.”

She smiled at him gently “Is something the matter? You didn’t have a fight with Duncan, did you? I know you still both miss Tom…”

“No, no, Duncan’s fine,” he assured her quickly. “It’s nothing.” He focussed on the mugs in front of him, hoping Abby would drop the subject.

No such luck.

“Well, there’s definitely something. You haven’t been anywhere near the ARC for a week, and I practically had to drag you to the anomaly site earlier.”

“I told you – I didn’t want to leave Rex on his own.”

Abby snorted. “You don’t seriously think I bought that, do you? You’re a very bad liar, Connor.”

“Really, it’s nothing.” But his hand shook as he held the kettle, and he cursed as hot water spilled over the work surface.

“Is it Stephen?” Abby asked quietly. “We all miss him, Connor…”

Connor remained silent. How could he explain it to her? That it was about Stephen, but at the same time not really about him at all. At least, not in the way she thought.

“Shutting yourself away is not the way to deal with it,” said Abby, coming up beside him and gently extracting the kettle from his lax grip.

He smiled bitterly. “Trust me – I am _so_ not the one you should be telling that to.”

“Do you mean Cutter? He seems to be doing okay. More than okay, actually.”

“Well, he’s not,” Connor retorted. “And I should know.” He was feeling guilty again for abandoning Cutter, even as he knew at the same time that he couldn’t have stuck around. He just couldn’t. He’d been too scared to.

“What does that mean?”

So Connor told her. Everything. Everything that had happened since Cutter had come back from the Permian right up until his cowardly retreat that afternoon.

Well, nearly everything. He omitted a few of the details of what had happened in Cutter’s living room a week ago. He was sober enough now to recognise that there was a difference between Abby feeling sympathy for him, and feeling enmity for Cutter. And he didn’t want Abby to lose her respect and friendship for the professor.

And besides, having thought about very little else for the past few days, he had eventually come to the conclusion that Cutter would never have gone through with what he was threatening. He might have been angry and grieving and not in control, but he was a decent man, and he would have stopped, even if Connor hadn’t stopped him first.

Connor was sure.

So he didn’t tell her that part, but he told her the rest.

“And just when I thought we’d finally come to an understanding, Helen and Leek have to go and throw a gigantic spanner in the works. And then Stephen…and now everything’s totally fucked up!”

Abby looked a little shocked – Connor didn’t swear often. “You need to talk to Cutter,” she pronounced softly.

“I know!” Connor almost shouted. Then he reigned himself back slightly. “I know,” he said again more quietly. “I know I do. It’s just that…what if…shit. I’ve got no idea where I stand with him now. You haven’t seen him when he’s grieving, Abby. It’s like Stephen took a piece of him with him. They were close – I know that. But what if…”

"Talk to Cutter," said Abby firmly.  "You won't know anything until you do."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor couldn't stop the phrase 'returning to the scene of the crime' flitting through his mind.

 

Standing in Cutter’s living room, watching Cutter watching him, Connor couldn’t stop the phrase ‘returning to the scene of the crime’ flitting through his mind. Which was ridiculous – there hadn’t been any crime. He didn’t think of it like that. And yet he couldn’t help remembering the things that had been said and done the last time he was in this room.

He had followed Abby’s advice, although it had taken him another day of dithering and cowardice to do it. And to say that Cutter had been surprised to find Connor on his doorstep would be doing the word an injustice.

But now they were together, finally, Connor couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Or rather, he could think of a hundred things, but he didn’t know _how_ to say any one of them.

“Connor, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“You know I would never…”

“I know,” said Connor quickly. And he did. He really _did_.

“But I scared you.”

“Yes, you did. But not with that.” A pause. “Okay, maybe a little with that. At the time. But not after. That’s not why I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Then why?”

Connor sighed. “You couldn’t see yourself, professor. Your grief – _that_ was scary. You were lost, and I didn’t know how to bring you back. You still are, and I still don’t. You lost your best friend, Cutter.” Cutter flinched slightly, and Connor gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. But you lost the person you’ve been closest to for the last eight years. How can I compete with that?”

“What?” Cutter looked genuinely confused, but Connor didn’t notice. He ploughed on, needing to say everything that had been filling his thoughts for the past week.

“I _can’t_ compete with that. But it’s okay, I get it. I’m fine with it. And I’m sorry if it seemed like I was trying to replace him.”

“Excuse me?”  The surprise and disbelief were evident in Cutter’s voice, and it was enough to halt Connor’s monologue, and make him look at the other man. Cutter was wearing an expression of something close to outrage, but as Connor watched it dissolved into fond despair as Cutter shook his head in exasperation.

“You don’t seriously think that? You think that I thought you were trying to replace Stephen?”

“Well, that’s what you said. And I know you were angry and drunk and grieving, but I think there was a grain of truth in it anyway. And I wouldn’t want you to think I was trying to take his place as soon as he was gone.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” said Cutter. He shook his head again. “How _do_ you do it, Connor? I said some terrible things to you that night. Damn near _attacked_ you, for god’s sake! And yet somehow you’ve twisted it round to make it your fault. How do you do it?” he repeated.

Connor stayed quiet. Once again he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I would _never_ think you were trying to replace Stephen. Not while he was alive, and not now he’s…gone. Yes, we were close. I was probably closer to him than I was even to Helen, ironic truth be told. And I’ll grieve for him for a long time. But you _are not_ him. And I wouldn’t want you to be. I want you to be Connor. And I want you to be _here_.”

“So you don’t think I’m a pathetic idiot?”

“Did I say that?”

“Yep, right before you accused me of trying to replace a dead man.” Connor knew he was being harsh, and he so wanted to believe what Cutter was telling him. But he couldn’t get the words that had been said that night out of his head. He couldn’t forget the look in Cutter’s eyes as he had said them. Disdain, contempt, mockery had all been reflected there.

“Connor, I do not think that about you. I have never thought that about you.” Cutter looked at him steadily. “Without you, I don’t think I would have made it through the past few months. You believed me about Claudia and everything else when no one else would. You stuck by me when I was being crazy, hurtful, and ignorant of everyone around me. And at first I was just grateful. But now I’m more than that. And I think you know it.”

Looking into Cutter’s eyes, Connor couldn’t see a trace of those horrible emotions he’d seen there before. Now there was desperation, truth, and maybe a little bit of hope. And he felt himself weakening.

“I can’t be his replacement,” he said softly. “I just can’t. I’m not up to the job.”

“You’re not a replacement,” responded Cutter. “I promise. And you are up to the job. You’re up to the job of being _Connor_. I would give almost anything to get Stephen back, to make him not be gone, to make things right between the two of us. But not you. I wouldn’t give you. I need _you_ , Connor. And I don’t know how many more ways I can say that to make you believe me.”

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do.” Connor smiled. “Knew it all along really. But you might have noticed that I don’t have that high an opinion of myself. So I don’t really expect others to have one either.”

“Rubbish,” said Cutter succinctly. “Plenty of people have a high opinion of you, Connor. Including me.  _Especially_ me.” He took a step forward. “I have the very _highest_ opinion of you,” he said softly.

Reaching out, he caught Connor’s hand in his own, entwining his fingers through Connor’s. “Is this okay?”

Connor felt something loosen inside him. “Oh, of course it bloody is,” he exclaimed, taking his own step towards Cutter until they were only inches apart. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot.”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” said Cutter fiercely. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for.”

“Sor…” The word was cut off by Cutter’s finger on his lips.

“Stop it,” Cutter whispered, before replacing the finger with his mouth.

He was hesitant, and Connor could tell that Cutter was trying not to scare him. Thoughtful, but totally unnecessary. Curling a hand round the back of Cutter’s neck he deepened the kiss, trying to show the other man that he wasn’t afraid – that there was nothing to be afraid _of_.

Eventually, however, air became a factor, and they drew apart slightly, both breathing deeply, and both smiling a little goofily.

“Well…” said Cutter

“Well…” echoed Connor.

“I missed you,” said Cutter. “This hasn’t been the greatest week for me.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through it on your own,” said Connor. “And, for the record, I missed you too, professor.”

Cutter frowned, and Connor looked at him apprehensively. What now?

“How long is it going to take?” Cutter asked.

“How long is what going to take?” said Connor.

“How long is it going to take before you start calling me Nick? I seem to recall we’ve had this discussion once already.”

Connor grinned. “Yeah, but we were in mortal peril then – sort of. You can hardly expect me to remember what was said in such a pressurised situation.”

Cutter laughed. “Okay, then. I forgive you, on the grounds of peril-induced amnesia. But do you think you’ll be able to remember the instruction this time around?”

“And that instruction would be…?” enquired Connor cheekily.

Cutter sighed in mock-annoyance. “Call…me…Nick,” he said clearly, punctuating each word with a quick kiss.

“Well, I’ll do my best,” replied Connor breathlessly. “Although I don’t see how you expect me to remember your instructions when you issue them like that.”

He kissed Cutter again, pulling him even closer this time, before some still-rational part of his brain reminded him that this was probably totally inappropriate. Cutter was still grieving – this was probably the last thing on his mind.

Breaking off suddenly, he stepped back, leaving a somewhat confused looking Cutter a little off-balance.

“What…?”

“This isn’t the right time for this, Nick,” said Connor. “Not now.”

Cutter looked as if he were coming back to reality with an unpleasant bump, and Connor hated that he had been the one to do that. But right now it was an unfortunate necessity.

“You’re probably right,” Cutter conceded. Then he held out a hand. “Stay? I promise no drinking and no yelling. Just us.”

"Just us," agreed Connor.


End file.
